


Nothing More Appropriate

by isuilde



Category: Free!
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Unrepentant Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-23
Updated: 2015-01-23
Packaged: 2018-03-08 17:36:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3217703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/isuilde/pseuds/isuilde
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's late winter, and the plum is budding with a promise of spring. Rin doesn't think there's a more appropriate time to introduce Makoto to his Dad.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nothing More Appropriate

**Author's Note:**

> Some of these ideas are stolen from the twitter conversation hal_1 and I were having last week.
> 
> Happy Early Birthday, Rin!

There’s the slightest bite of late winter chill in the breeze when he steps out of the house.

“Don’t forget to bring the flowers!” Gou says from where she’s lounging on their front door. “And Mom said to make sure Makoto-senpai comes over for dinner.”

He pauses, takes a deep breath, feels the leftover winter chill dig their claws in his lungs—it bites just enough for him to square his shoulders. Gou makes a displeased noise at the back of her throat and reaches out to fix Rin’s scarf, fingers tugging at the fabric this way and that, straightening both the scarf and the coat he’s wearing. “You’ve got to look sharp today, Oniichan.”

Rin jams his hands into the pocket of his coat. The tips of his fingers find the band, light and round, and he rolls it around in his pocket before grasping it firmly in his palm. “I always look sharp.”

Gou laughs, pats him on the chest and gives him a light shove. “Yes, you do. Give my love to Dad?”

“Yeah.” Rin ducks to plant a wet kiss on her forehead, and Gou makes a disgusted face, punching him on the gut playfully. “Ow—are you trying to kill me?”

She shoots him an amused look. “Gross.” Then her smile brightens up, eyes alight with excitement, and Rin feels the courage that’s been slipping off in him comes back in full force. “Good luck, Oniichan!”

He takes a breath. Then breaks into a grin—one he wears before he enters a race, one that splits his face seconds before he dives.

“Thanks, Gou.”

** \-----o0o----- **

He meets Makoto at the base of the hill.

It’s still quiet—seven in the morning is too early for a Sunday—and somehow, it’s odd to hear the chirps of the birds overlapping with the distant sound of the waves kissing the shore. He’s gotten too used to the muted buzz of Sydney’s or Tokyo’s morning rush, to the groans of subways and white noise of the crowd on the street. The ground under his shoes is slippery with the frost overnight, but hanging overhead are the slowly budding plum branches, and the skies above are the brightest color of blue—a promise of spring.

Rin thinks it’s appropriate that he should do this today.

Makoto is bundled up in his usual dark green coat, holding a small bouquet of flowers against the thick red scarf Rin bought him last Christmas. It makes him look a bit like a Christmas tree, especially when he smiles and his whole face lights up. Like now. “Good morning, Rin.”

Rin hides a smile behind his own scarf. “Morning,” he replies, stopping a mere step away from Makoto. “Sorry I made you come with me.”

The smile doesn’t falter. Rin lets Makoto’s fingers find a stray bang and tuck it behind his ear, fights the urge to tilt his head and turn into Makoto’s hand when it brushes the line of his jaw, feather-light. “It’s alright. It’s very important for you, isn’t it?”

Rin glances at the path winding up to the top of the hills—where the graveyard sits overlooking the expanse of blue sea and the endless line of horizon. Remembers the last time he went there by himself, remembers how he’d told his dad about Australia, and thinks of how much more he has to say today.

He feels Makoto steps closer, shoulders pressing lightly, one hand running down his arm before fingers slip into Rin’s own, lacing them together in a loose hold. It’s warm, familiar, and Rin couldn’t stop the contented sigh that escapes his lips when Makoto squeezes their hands firmly.

Rin flashes him a grin.

“Let’s go.”

** \-----o0o----- **

He watches Makoto crouches down to put his bouquet of flowers next to Rin’s, watches Makoto claps his hands once and closes his eyes. The silence stretches, broken only by the merry waves down on the shore, the sound carried away by the late winter breeze. It ruffles Makoto’s hair playfully, sneaking in-between the brown strands and making them dance, mussing the unruly hair even more.

He wonders what Makoto is saying to his Dad, right now. Introduction, maybe— _hello, Matsuoka Toraichi-san, my name is Tachibana Makoto and I am Rin’s friend, I hope you don’t mind me intruding today._ That sounds like what Makoto would say, Rin thinks, and the corners of his lips twitch up for a moment, despite the somber mood.

Well. It’s something he should clear up, then.

“It’s very quiet up here,” Makoto says, as he draws himself up, rising to his feet. “It’s a nice place. You can see the ocean from here, too.” He steps back to stand next to Rin, their arms almost brushing. “Your Dad must be happy.”

“He loves the ocean,” Rin shrugs, slipping his right hand back into his pocket. The band is warm as he rolls it between his fingers, somehow feeling that it’s gotten twice heavier since the last time he fiddled with it. “Mom said something about this is where he’d want to be buried, even if—“ he falters, the last syllables coming out in a hesitant murmur, suddenly remembering Makoto’s feelings over the accident itself.

He steals a glance sideways to find Makoto’s smile, almost too soft, too quiet, with the slightest hint of fear dancing in his eyes. “Even if the ocean took him away.”

Rin swallows. “I’m sorry.”

Makoto shakes his head. “I’ve made my peace,” he says, even as his feet shuffle and shoes scuffle against the ground—the only sign of what anxiety he has left. “I think it’s getting better.  _I’m_ getting better. About the ocean.” Then he peers at Rin, with that small smile that barely hides his curiosity. “Rin?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you okay?”

Rin considers the question—wonders if he could call himself okay, now, with the Olympic looming in the near future, with the progress of his own dream, with his life in general, and the people he has. He remembers following people in white robes, Gou’s little hand tight in his own, remembers the pain of losing, the sense of loneliness when he stares at the ocean, the dream he’s been chasing for years and years.

His own dream, now.

“I am.” He answers at last, rolling the band between his thumb and forefinger for the last time before clasping it firmly. Then he takes a breath, throws Makoto a confident smile, and takes a step forward. The breeze picks up as he reaches out with his left arm, palms flat against the gravestone, thumb pressing on the beginning of his Dad’s name character.

The gravestone is chilly under his touch, the leftover night frost biting into his skin. He closes his eyes, and thinks he can pick out Makoto’s soft breath behind him among the winter breeze.

“Dad,” he says out loud, the word barely hangs in the air before the wind steals it away, sends it up, up, up, to the high heavens. “It’s been a while, but I’m home. Gou is home, too—she said she loves you and she’d come over tomorrow.”

He straightens up, pulls his arm back, this time to motion at Makoto to come closer. That earns him a confused look, but Makoto obliges, falling to Rin’s side with a slight bow at the gravestone. “I’m bringing someone with me today,” Rin continues. “He’s probably introduced himself, since he’s ridiculously proper like that—“

“Rin,” Makoto almost-whines.

“—but yeah, Dad, this is Tachibana Makoto.” Rin finishes around a soft chuckle. He stares at the gravestone hard—he can’t quite recall how his Dad looked, the day of the accident, so he recalls the confident grins his Dad wears in the photos, recalls the crinkles around his Dad’s eyes when he laughs. He closes his eyes, swallows as his heart begins to pound harder, and takes a deep breath.

He’s doing this.

“We’re dating each other.”

Next to him, Makoto stiffens.

“We’ve been going out for years—this March would make it our sixth year anniversary. I thought it’s a good time as any to bring him over and introduce him to you.” He inhales, long and feels some sort of weight lifted off his shoulders when he lets it out. “He’s been very good to me. He’s everything good you could imagine, Dad—he’s kind, supportive, too gentle for his own good, sometimes, too selfless. He loves cats and sweets, probably because he’s sweet, too—“ next to him, Makoto makes a sound like he’s choking, and Rin feels his face burns. “—and he’s a huge scaredy cat who can’t cook to save his life, but he tries and works hard on everything, and I think he’s actually one of the bravest men I’ve ever met.”

His lips curl into a small smile.

“And I love him, very much.”

He turns to Makoto—Makoto, whose eyes are wide, flashing with too many emotions like he can’t quite decide on what kind of expression he should put on his face right now—and Rin swallows the last of the fear clinging in his throat, swallows the last of the hesitance weighing his limbs down. It’s no different than diving into the water, he reminds himself, nothing different than setting his feet on a foreign land for a dream he tirelessly chases.

The band rests inside his palm. He draws his hand out of his coat pocket and exposes it to the world—simple gold, etched with the initials of their names, glinting under the morning winter sun—and Makoto’s eyes grow impossibly wider.

“Please give us your blessing,” Rin says quietly, turning back to the grave for a moment, drawing every last confidence he has in him. “Because I want to spend the rest of my life with him.”

Then he looks back up to Makoto, a tentative smile tugging his lips. “If you would have me…?”

There’s a second where Makoto just freezes—a second in which he doesn’t seem like he’s processing what is happening, like he can’t quite understand why there is a ring in Rin’s hand, offered up to him, like he can’t quite believe what he’s seeing. Then, almost abruptly, as understanding dawns, his eyes soften, and he inhales, almost sharply, opens his mouth, and laughs.

It tinkles like the chime of summer bells—the laughter escaping Makoto’s lips in bubbles, happy and unrestrained, and just like that, Rin feels the tension bleed off his shoulders.

“Oh, Rin,” Makoto says, his tone fond even if the last syllable of Rin’s name wibbles in the air. His eyes are dancing, thought they are suspiciously wet, and he’s blinking too much, but Rin chooses not to point that out. Not as long as the corners of Makoto’s lips are still curving out, each laugh spelling out happiness like Rin’s never heard before.

Rin raises an eyebrow. Makoto clasps a hand over his mouth, a nice shade of red spreading across his cheeks to the tips of his ears as he sobers up, swallowing back the last of his laughter before straightening up and bows deep at the grave.

“Matsuoka-san,” he says. “Allow me to have your son’s hand forever.”

The back of Rin’s eyes burn when Makoto steps closer, fingers reaching out to touch Rin’s palm, letting Rin slip the ring into his left ring finger. It gleams as Makoto brings his hand up, making it catch the sun rays, clearly adoring the initials of their name neatly etched on the curve of the ring. What a sap, Rin thinks, but it makes his throat clogs up with emotions he can’t describe, so he supposes he’s not much better.

“Is it appropriate,” Makoto murmurs, leaning down maddeningly slowly. “If I kiss you right here, right now?”

“What did I say about being ridiculously proper,” Rin grouches. Makoto laughs.

“Just a bit, then. I’ll apologize to your Dad after.”

Their lips meet halfway, silencing the chuckle bubbling up their throats.

It’s late winter, and the plums are budding with the promise of a new beginning. Rin doesn’t think anything could be more appropriate than this.

** \-----o0o----- **

**Author's Note:**

> (I'm sorry that this is awful, I tried my best, but my writing MP is still low orz)


End file.
